Though I Know She Lies
by Caladria101
Summary: SamJack snippets... one from JoePete, one from Jack. Concrit is my friend. Give Me Friends.
1. Chapter 1

When my love swears that she is made of truth

I do believe her though I know she lies,

That she might think me some untutored youth

Unlearned in the world's false subtleties.

Therefore I lie with her, and she with me,

And in our faults by lies we flattered be

He watched her go. There was no way to stop her, really. For all of his quips and jokes about having an intergalactic heroine for a girlfriend, there are some days when he wished that she wasn't. Those are the days when she doesn't call when he expects her to, when he lies awake wondering (and he'll leave it at wondering, not worrying) if she's okay, if he'll ever see her again.

Because he's seen what's out there, a little. He knows what she faces, at least he knows enough to have a vague idea. And the vague idea scares him enough to know that he'd do anything to stop her doing it again and again.

Those are the nights he hates. Those, and the nights when he lies awake and tries to hold her through her nightmares, to ground her. He never really knows whether to be hurt that his is never a name that he hears from her sleeping lips, or perversely relieved that she'll only call him "Sir", even in the privacy of her own mind.

He'd prefer it if she didn't call for him at all, of course. Because she'll call to him like he was the one who could solve the problems of the world.

And she'd never tell him anything of it. He suspects that she wouldn't tell him even if she could. She thinks him too inexperienced, too untutored in the horrors of what she sees and takes for granted. He disagrees. He can handle truth and lies and deception, but he can't handle it when she thinks its for his own protection.

Oh, he's fairly sure that she doesn't want to lie to him, to not trust him. But she can't help it. There's something about them, the fabled SG-1. The ones they hold dearest to their hearts are each other, despite who else comes into their lives.

She didn't mean to be unfair with it – he knew that. She was simply doing the best she could in a bad situation. And he thought he had her heart, in some measure. But she had his with a wholeheartedness that scared him. And someone else had hers.

She didn't even really know herself. He had a feeling that he saw the whole sorry mess with more clarity than she ever could.

But he would lie to her, and pretend that he didn't know that, and she would lie to him and herself, convincing herself that it was the man she lay next to that she wanted, and not he who she couldn't have.

Because he had secrets of his own – ones that would probably horrify her and make her think twice. And he has a horrible feeling that if she thinks twice then she might realise what she's hiding from herself.

Because in the end, he loved her. And if he had to settle for being second best, then he'll be trying to make up the gap to first for the rest of his life.


	2. Thus Is Simple Truth Suppress'd

When my love swears that she is made of truth,  
I do believe her, though I know she lies,  
That she might think me some untutor'd youth,  
Unlearned in the world's false subtleties.  
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,  
Although she knows my days are past the best,  
Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue:  
On both sides thus is simple truth supprest.  
But wherefore says she not she is unjust?  
And wherefore say not I that I am old?  
O, love's best habit is in seeming trust,  
And age in love loves not to have years told:  
Therefore I lie with her, and she with me,  
And in our faults by lies we flatter'd be.

o…O…o

They don't talk about it. It's yet another thing that he knows that she knows that he knows, but neither will acknowledge it. Because that's too dangerous. To acknowledge that she is engaged to another man acknowledges that they haven't acknowledged it so far. And that acknowledges that there's a reason for the lack of… acknowledgement.

He wonders if it's possible to overuse one word.

What he doesn't know is if she knows. He's been discrete with his own… and his brain supplies 'liaison' as though he's involved in something cheap and degrading. He tells himself that it's to protect her. They've agreed that their… liaison… won't affect their respective positions. He's not even sure, anymore, who he means by 'her'.

He refuses to acknowledge that he fails to mention it to anyone because it feels like infidelity, betrayal of the worst kind. And if Sara fails to flit through his mind as he welcomes Kerry into his house, then there's no way that he'll admit, even to himself, if Carter ever flits through his mind as he takes her to his bed.

Because that way he feels like he's betraying all three of them.

And he does that, anyway, every second that he laughs with the young, vital woman that doesn't have a clue. His enjoyment is always marred by the knowledge that he shouldn't, he couldn't be as happy as he once was. Some bridges you burn, others you detonate, rendering the way back impossible in sheer moments.

And he knows, in his heart of hearts, that it's not fair on any of them. Least of all the one who realises none of it. And yet, he won't tell her. He takes her out to dinner and wakes her up for breakfast and he remains silent on what will eventually drive them apart. But she is too young and too beautiful to see this as anything as sordid as a clandestine affair… and he grimaces at his own choice of words again… so he tells himself that there is no way for her to be hurt. And that makes it alright, if the innocent remain so.

And so they dance. He doesn't mention the woman in his bed, and she doesn't mention the man in hers.

It doesn't stop him wondering, though. If Pete's youth and lack of black history is keeping her as happy as she should be. He has no doubt that the other man is keeping her happier than he could. There came a point when he realised that even if she thought she wanted him, he couldn't. There would be something immoral in tarnishing her with himself, in allowing his darkness to infect her. But he kept up the pretence, a little. Because he couldn't bear for her to think that he didn't care. Because if anyone in this world deserved to be loved, it was her. And if anyone in this world didn't deserve to love, it was him.

But like the foolish man he was, he hoped. And dreamed. But the castle that he'd built came down. And the bridge that had been smouldering for months suddenly incinerated, lost to him forever.

But they smile politely, and pretend that they are friends, and lie for the comfort of the other.


End file.
